DESTROYED

Chapter 26

SUMMARY: Word of Sam and Julian's arrest reaches the ears of one person... Also, Collins goes through a nasty psychological breakdown… this'll be good – well, not for him. But it's… different. Basically it's my take on how a person's mind can also become his or her worst enemy… how the most punishment and pain can be inflicted not from anyone else, but from one's self. Don't hate me, but I'm gonna BREAK Collins in this chapter. Don't hurt me!

WARNING: Major Collins angst.

Being so early in the morning, everyone else was still asleep as Collins and Joanne entered the room, including Angel, who looked all but peaceful in his slumber. The torment and pain of the past week was certainly visibly taking its toll, and it was crushing to have to witness it and still feel responsible for everything happening… but Collins held himself together. Joanne closed the door behind her. The hospital certainly looked different in the early budding light of the morning… the light shining through the curtains and illuminating the room gave a sense of warmth. Possibly even hope. It made everything seem different and whether or not that was a good thing was yet to be decided. Collins sat down on the other side of the bed from where Roger and Mimi were sleeping, curious as to where Julia had disappeared to, but raise his concerns – she probably had to go home for a bit, which was understandable. Joanne moved over to Maureen who was sleeping on the empty bed, and just sat down, feeling the weight of her exhaustion overtake her. What a night it had been, and not exactly all positive either – with Collins' words still fresh on her mind, there was not much else she could think about other than the state of this group as a whole. Because if Collins and Angel could lose their love for each other, then what would that to the strength of everyone?

She kicked her shoes off and swung her legs up onto the bed so she could lie down next to Maureen, who didn't stir with the movement. Luckily none of the others were awake as neither Joanne or Collins were up to answering their questions, though he was already dreading what would happen with Angel. His acceptance of whatever Angel's decision would be was not a reflection on him – or that he was ready and willing to give him up, but like he said, there was no way that after what happened that he would be in a position to ask Angel for anything, especially something as important and potentially devastating as love. He also couldn't ask it from his friends either. It just wasn't fair or right anymore.

"You okay?" he asked her, taking off his jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just need sleep," she chuckled and wearily rubbed her forehead, massaging it as she felt a major headache impending.

"You?"

"Never better," he sardonically agreed. And turned to see how Angel was doing – which wasn't apparently all that good. He resisted the urge to lean down and kiss him, or touch him in any way, fearing the response just as much as the fear of exacerbating the injuries. Joanne watched him and saw the internal debate that was raging within him, and suddenly felt sorry for him. If she was in his position, she'd probably do the lawyerly thing and try think things through from a logical standpoint – but logic now, suddenly seemed worthless and not appropriate. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly decided against it and closed it again before she could utter a sound. This was something neither she, nor any one else could involve themselves in. This was strictly between Angel and Collins. Instead, she laid back and closed her eyes.

"Get some rest," she told him. "You'll need it."

Collins seriously thought about following through on that advice, but something was stopping him. Getting rest was probably the least of his concerns right now, and so seeing that Joanne had settled herself into a position for sleep, he decided against sitting down and doing the same. He walked over to the door and opened it slowly, hoping that he wasn't gaining anyone's attention. After turning back and seeing that he was in the all-clear, he slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Standing on the opposite side of the door, by him self, did end up providing the first bit of clarity he had experienced in days.

"Shit!" he softly cursed him self out and rubbed his face. Whatever he decided to do now, there was no hiding from the fact that it wasn't gonna turn out pretty. He slowly walked down the hall, watching the nurses and doctors and other hospital staff go about their daily business with little interest in what they were actually doing. Collins had been in and out of this hospital so often this past week, he was starting to feel like he'd never leave… that Angel would never leave. And he wasn't oblivious to the possibility that Angel wasn't out of trouble yet, and could still die from his injuries. In a dark, ironic twist in his mind, Collins even thought about the idea of whether Angel could die in the hospital from AIDS complications rather than his injuries – that would be ironic and even more difficult to handle.

Collins didn't want to be there when Angel woke up (as horrible as that sounds), but he needed to take this time to think of what he was gonna do and say once that inevitable time came when he'd have to look his lover (or maybe soon-to-be ex!) in his gorgeous, sad eyes. But how could you try plan for something that may or may not happen? You can't pre-plan human emotions. Well, that wasn't what he was trying to do… what he was doing was trying to prepare himself for whatever happened, though it didn't seem to be working.

A few minutes later, he stepped onto the elevator with the intention of going back outside for some fresh air, which maybe could help him think clearly. A further few minutes later, he was walking out of the hospital and onto the grounds, past the area where he had last been confronted by Sam – the painful memories and thoughts of when he was there with Sam; Angel was being attacked at that very same time. It burned.

Collins sat down on a nearby bench, and stared up at the brightening sky, this time not thinking of anything… just sitting there. Being.

You only got yourself to blame… that nagging voice in the back of his head started taunting him. He didn't need his own conscience making this harder, but it was.Don't worry, he wasn't turning schizo… but you know what I mean, when you have your conscience telling you something when you otherwise think something else, right? That same type of thing?

He almost died twice because of you…

Collins squeezed his eyes shut and held his hands to his head. Was he losing his mind? Probably. Who could blame him after everything that's happened?

It's over, you know…

"Shut up…" he whispered harshly to him self. If anyone was to walk by now, then they'd probably be under the impression that he was crazy or something… he did.

How can you expect him to love you now?

In desperation to end the self-loathing he was inflicting on him self, Collins clenched his teeth and shook his head. Tears and sweat were indicators of the stress and pressure he was under, and the pain slashing through his heart was slowly making him bleed any last ounce of strength he had within.

"Fuck… make it stop…" he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He was doing this to him self, and there was nothing he could do to stop it! Even his own mind was attacking him.

Angel deserves better…

"Stop! Please!" he continued to verbally plea.

You're worthless to him and everyone now… you're worthless…

"No!"

Yes

"No… I love him…"

He doesn't love you…

"Lies!"

Reality hurts. Actual reality kills. You know it…

"Just a theory…" Collins sobbed softly, through clenched teeth. "It's not real…"

You know it makes sense…

"Go away!" he cried, wanting his mind to just stop functioning at this point. Maybe that's where he had been going wrong this whole time… he had been relying on what his head was telling him to do, instead of paying attention to his instincts. His gut. His heart. In their world, they lived each day by following their instincts, not the logic… logic didn't make sense in the bohemian world, because the bohemian world itself was not logical. It didn't make any sense.

You can't escape it…

"No!"

You fucked up…

"I know…" he cried into his hands, hanging his head.

You're nothing…

"I'm nothing…" he repeated his thoughts aloud; his eyes now red and bloodshot. The more Collins kept tormenting himself, the more he was beginning to believe it. He knew better, but the psychological process was working.

It's over…

"It's over…"

He deserves better… more…

"I don't deserve him…"

He'll die and it'll be YOUR fault!

"No! No…."

Yes!

"No!"

Yes!

"Stop!" he whispered, becoming weaker in his battle against him self. If you're thinking that Collins has cracked, well… you're right. He has. "Now… stop!"

Angel is dying…

"He'll get better…"

A person walked by and gave him a weird look, wondering why this person was talking to himself. The person didn't stop though, and just kept walking. Collins didn't notice. The person, a man, stopped for a brief moment and turned around, confused… and concerned. Did this person escape from the psyche ward or something?

He won't!

"He will… he will!"

You're killing him…

"NO!"

Angel's dying…

"God, make it stop!"

Angel will die!

"No," Collins breathed.

YOU KILLED HIM!

It was then that he let out a bloodcurdling scream and slid off the bench to the grassy ground, sobbing almost hysterically into his hands. It was official. Tom Collins had cracked. He was broken.
Sitting on the ground; his whole boding shaking and trembling, racking with pain at each sob… it was clear to him now. Suddenly, his conscience disappeared and clarity was now his mind. Everything was so clear now, like a fog suddenly dissipating. It was clear… it was his fault. No matter what Angel said now, Collins knew there would be no way he could possibly stay and hurt him further… and that, in his mind, was what would happen if he did stay. He had it in mind to get up and leave now, but knew that would solve nothing and besides… he was too weak to even get back up to sitting on the bench, let alone stand up and walk away. It seemed like walking away would be the best thing to do, but not necessarily the wisest… after all, it was walking away that almost destroyed Angel and his friends in the first place. Not to mention him self. So what to do? There was nothing but confliction. He could leave, but that would serve no purpose than to hurt his friends further. He could stay and risk Angel never being able to recover.

Trembling, he gripped the side of the bench and tried to pull himself back up, but it was a worthless attempt – the weight of his body combined with the weakness and lack of energy he was feeling prevented him getting up on his own accord. He felt back down. Several passer Byers stopped to watch what was happening, though none moved to offer assistance, thinking that it might provoke him further or whatever. Collins was completely aware of their presence, but didn't care.

A few minutes passed before that first man who walked by returned to the scene, followed by two nurses, and pointed them in Collins' direction. The two medical personnel rushed to Collins side, and he only knew they were there when the female nurse placed her hand on his shoulder gently.

"Sir?" she softly asked, kneeling down at his side, remaining cautious to the possibility that he could snap. The male nurse knelt down on his other side, physically inspecting Collins for any injuries or signs of trauma. Nothing. Collins didn't acknowledge either of them.

"Sir?" she continued. "Are you alright?"

No response.

She looked at her colleague, who placed his stethoscope to his ears and pressed the other end to Collins chest after lifting up his shirt just enough, who flinched at the sudden coldness of it as it touched his chest. The harsh rise and fall of his chest told the nurse what he needed to know. This guy was under some major stress or something, because he was on the way to a psychological breakdown.

"His heart beat's racing…" the male nurse told her. "He's hyperventilating."

"So is his pulse," she concurred. "Sir? What's your name?"

Collins was in such a state that he couldn't hear her… he was blocking everything out. She sighed.

"Sir? I need to know your name…"

When it became obvious to her that she wouldn't get any verbal response, or even an acknowledgment, she looked at her colleague. Collins was slightly calmer, though was still breathing very shallowly

"Nervous breakdown," she stated.

"That's what I was thinking," the male nurse agreed. "Go get a wheelchair; we'll get him inside…"

She nodded and stood up, and then began jogging back towards the hospital entrance, while leaving the other nurse to care for Collins' rapidly deteriorating condition. The nurse, Michael Thomas, placed his hand under the man's arm.

"Come on," he soothingly spoke. "Can you stand?"

In the first sign of some sort of acknowledgment, Collins slowly shook his head, and looked up at the person who was at his side. In the hazy tears that blocked any clear, distinct visual contact, he then stared back down at the grass and found that everything that seemed real to him was now beyond his control. It wasn't real anymore.

"Sir?" Nurse Thomas continued to press. "Can you tell me your name? We're here to help you…"

Collins shook his head, and grimaced as his body froze, and then started shaking uncontrollably from the surge of emotional toil.

"No," he whispered. "Nothing can help me. It's my fault… everything…"

The nurse's heart wrenched at seeing how much pain this young man was obviously going through, and it wasn't hard to realise that a traumatic event must have taken place that would result in such a physical deterioration. How could he help someone like this? All medical personnel went through a psychology course, but this was way beyond the scope of his training. So, he just rubbed Collins' back and tried to be as sympathetic as possible while keeping a close monitor on his physical condition.

"Sir," he whispered back. "It's okay… I'm here to help you. It'll be alright. I just need to know your name… are you in any pain? Are you hurting?"

Collins shook his head again, and felt the energy in him almost dry up – the amount of pain being suffered could only be described as a suffocating blanket that would sooner kill him, and Angel, should things continue the way they were going. His chest was hurting so badly from the intense beating of his heart and the hyperventilating, as well as the stinging pain of heartache. If there was a Higher Divinity, then He must be taking some sort of sick amusement at this suffering… with no release of his pain in sight, Collins could not see how any one all-loving Being could do this to them. It wasn't like in the past two years they hadn't gone through enough, but this latest chapter in their lives was just bringing torture. Collins looked at his shaking hands, and curled his fingers to form a fist… all his remaining energy was accumulating in this one part of his body, and without warning he slammed it into the hard ground, and let out a scream in agony – suddenly, for a brief moment, the physical pain superseded the emotional pain, and gave some temporary relief. Michael Thomas was horrified at what he saw, and couldn't help taking a step back. Whatever had happened, he had never known someone to be hurting so much… and not knowing how to deal with it also presented some problems for him. After getting the initial shock, he reached out to him.

"Sir, I must insist you try calm down," he said. "It'll be okay, sir! Please… let me look at your hand!"

Collins was reluctantly let the nurse touch his hand, but gasped when an uncontrollably bad rush of pain almost shattered his body, and immediately he pulled away.

"No," he hoarsely protested. "No…"

"Sir, please!" Nurse Thomas' insistence became more profound. "Please… let me help you… please." This time he didn't wait for the man's approval, and crept forward ever so slightly so and took Collins' arm by the wrist. Not having the energy to resist (all of it had gone when his hand smashed into the ground!), Collins sat there, trembling and barely able to contain the crying, sobbing the pain that came with being an emotionally broken man, and allowed the nurse to inspect the injury. Already swelling was forming and the nurse could see that at least two or three bones had in fact been broken.

By this time about twelve or thirteen or so people had gathered to see what was going on, and were murmuring amongst them selves while looking very sympathetic and concerned. They probably wouldn't be if they knew who Collins was, and the kind of life he led.

Collins winced and groaned in pain as the very touch of the other man's hand caused enough pressure to send shockwaves of pain through his system.

Right at that moment the other nurse, Nurse Elizabeth Bryson, returned to the scene with a wheelchair, but stopped when she noticed the swelling around Collins' hand. She then quickly, and politely, made her way through the people who had gathered, and stopped just short of where the injured man was.

"What happened!" she demanded, again kneeling at Collins' side.

"I think he's broken a couple of bones," Nurse Thomas told her, keeping Collins' hand mobile and straight. While all this was going on, Collins still didn't may them much attention despite knowing that they and everyone there was focused on him. For him it was like getting struck by lightning… nothing else mattered, as all the senses were impaired to all else except the sensation of the fire-burning pain. That's what it felt like for him. Fire. Burning. Cremating his soul and everything about him that made him who he was. Why did it have to hurt so much?

"Help me get him up… he's had a nervous breakdown; he can't… or won't… move on his own."

Nurse Bryson obliged and took Collins' other arm and moved just behind him so she could help get him up. It took both nurses all their strength to get Collins to his feet, but finally they managed it after struggling, and were offered help by a few of the spectators. After Collins was seated in the wheelchair, Nurse Thomas stepped in as the one that would take him back to the Emergency Room. He wasn't totally disconnected from reality, but instead was choosing to ignore it now… for all he could focus was on that pain that was consuming him. The guilt. The fear. The REGRET. Forget regret? That wasn't possible anymore, to him… because everything that happened, and everything that was probably gonna happen, was just going to make him feel the regret.

As he was brought back to the hospital, Collins stared ahead and around him, at New York City continuing it's pace that never ceased, even into the early hours of the morning. The city that never sleeps. Given his experiences, he knew that clichéd phrase was not misplaced, nor wrong in its assumption. New York never shut down, and that was part of the beauty of it, and part of it's mass appeal. No matter what… this city was his home.

The doors to the hospital opened and he was taken inside, with Nurse Bryson at their side. She then went ahead of them, telling her colleague that she'd set up for Collins to be X-rayed and treated for his injury. Now, he couldn't feel the pain… the intense throbbing didn't bother him one bit anymore and the other nurse stared pushing the wheelchair in the direction that the other nurse had gone in just seconds earlier. The hysterics were pushed aside, now replaced with depression and a single tear sparkled under the lights.

"Stop…" he found his voice long enough to communicate to the nurse, after seeing something on the nearby television in the waiting room. "Stop, stop! Please!" he repeated, more firmly and desperately this time. The nurse stopped, confused.

"Sir, I must get you—"

"Shh!" he hissed, staring at the screen. The screen's images are what startled him, though straining to hear the words, it immediately impacted him. Sam and Julian were being dragged out of a police precinct, swarmed by police and news personnel.

"… The two suspects who's names are being withheld by police, have been formally charged with the rape and attempted murder a patient at Saint Michaels hospital this past week…"

Collins stared intently at the screen.

"… also one of them has been charged with the assault and attempted murder of another person, a young woman, who's name is also being withheld. It is confirmed that the two men were apprehended after the police received an anonymous tip… more information will be provided as details become available. For Channel Six news, I'm—"

He tuned out then, but remained surprisingly calm. After what Joanne told him, about the tape being aired and stuff, he knew it was only a matter of time before they were caught. But who was this snitch? Who ratted them out? Maybe one of their crew who was looking to deal himself out of a life sentence or whatever, but still… something wasn't sitting right with him.

Why he was so calm now, he didn't know… but tears were again streaming down his face and the nurse only could look at him with confusion, and hesitated, before continuing to take him to the X-ray room.

Collins closed his eyes and prayed for some strength to continue on. Life was just not worth living anymore…

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I must apologise that I didn't do this chapter as I had previously planned – with the Angel/Collins moment and Julia confessing everything, but I decided to change it a bit, and that there was some more emotional pain I could inflict (I know I'm evil!) and that it was time to focus somewhat on the psychological trauma Collins suffers as a result of everything happening. I promise, in the next chapter it'll be Collins and Angel, and the confession.

Also, sorry for it being a relatively shorter chapter. This was basically a segue into the next chapter and the emotional climax between Angel and Collins.

Lol omg I can't believe it's been 26 chapters! Seems like so far away from when I started the first chapter… wow. My imagination is more creepy than I thought! Anyway, chapter 27 coming up as soon as possible!